


Detective Breq, P.I.

by phnelt



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Noir, But also no genders, Detective Noir, F/F, No Spaceships, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phnelt/pseuds/phnelt
Summary: She walked in. Tall, broad, aristocratic in bearing and nose. The angles of her face were so sharp they almost refracted light. No weapon aside from the devastating dismissiveness she could lay on you without blinking. I knew her. You’d think that would make me relax but—I knew her. The best thing about this city was that I knew no one and here she was, walking into my office like a ghost out of the grave of my former life.In 1930s Mercy of Kalr, Detective Breq takes on a case from a shadow from her past, the recently impoverished heiress Seivarden Vendaai.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete, each section will get posted as it goes through final edits.
> 
> Thanks to kutsushita for heroic work beta-ing this.  
> Thanks to Raine_Wynd for introducing me to all of the amazing jazz and blues in this fic.

Coming in out of the rain, I stomped my boots a couple of times on the mat outside before I reached for the door to my office.  _ Detective Breq,  _ no last name needed or wanted. I’d had a few and liked none of them.  _ Private Investigator,  _ underneath. All of it in nice gilt lettering. I knew the lettering was nice because I’d had secretary Ettan did it by hand. No one had a better eye for the aesthetics.

My girl, Ettan had really been a godsend. I’d been in Mercy of Kalr less than two weeks, still confused about which streets led downtown, ink on the rent cheque still wet when the agency had dropped her at my door. I’d been suspicious, cantankerous, and particular—so no change from the usual. But she took one look at me and moved seamlessly into my life, an angel of class and discretion. I wondered what she had thought of me, scruffy, a little crazy behind the eyes, constantly humming, but I must have met some amount of approval. She was still here, after all.

When I stepped in, she was already standing up to take my coat.

“Sir, there have been a few calls while you’ve been out—I left the notes on your desk. Celar has called  _ twice— _ she wants those photographs for the breach of contract suit ASAP—and there were a couple other calls from prospective clients. All the details are written down.”

“Thanks Ettan, you’re a doll.” 

“You’re not going to return any of those calls, are you?”

“It’s Thursday,” I said, and patted the brown paper envelope under my arm a couple of times. Ettan got my meaning and gave me the indulgent half-smile she reserved for the occasion. I gave her a cheery wave with my fingers and knew she’d handle the rest. I was Not To Be Disturbed until further notice.

I stepped through to my private office. It could have been anywhere, for anyone. I kept no photos, no mementoes. One time, a client had grumbled, said my office was like me, soulless, a machine, but Ettan shut him down right quick. She said I didn’t let any distractions get in the way of my pursuit of justice. Since then I’ve been scared to ask her in case she meant it. I hope it was just to make him quiet; I can’t have anyone that earnest that close to me. The room was just a couch, and a desk, and my own solitary personal touch: a state of the art gramophone.

Thursdays are dead for PIs. Mondays are busy - full of people who stewed in their regrets, ready to drop them at my door bright and early. Fridays, sometimes there was a rush of distressed housewives, sure that this weekend would be the one to finally catch their wives in bad acts. But Thursdays, people were saving up the energy to really ruin their lives in the next couple of days. 

Which meant Thursdays were the best day of the week. I strolled over to my gramophone, keeping my pace slow despite my anticipation. Carefully, I pulled out my envelope and slid out the record sleeve carefully tucked inside. This week, Bessie Smith was going to take me to church.

I carefully set the needle, shrugged off my jacket and dropped down into the chair behind my desk. Feet up, lit cigarette, and the setup was complete. I let Bessie carry me away.

“You can’t go in there!” Ettan’s voice, uncharacteristically raised, jolted me out of my meditation. I swung my feet down off the desk and braced myself. My pistol was safely secured under my desk. I hadn’t needed it in all the time I’d been living in Mercy of Kalr, but some habits were hard to break and paranoia is one of them.

Then she walked in. Tall, broad, aristocratic in bearing and nose. The angles of her face were so sharp they almost refracted light. No weapon aside from the devastating dismissiveness she could lay on you without blinking. I knew her. You’d think that would make me relax but—I knew her. The best thing about this city was that I knew no one and here she was, walking into my office like a ghost out of the grave of my former life. 

She paused elegantly in front of my desk, a parody of politeness, like she was asking for permission. In my periphery I saw Ettan apologising, but neither of us acknowledged her. Our eyes were locked together.

“Have a seat, Seivarden,” I said. I almost heard Ettan’s jaw snap shut as her whole body straightened up, shocked. When a ghost comes in, you’ve got to resurrect it all the way before you lay it to rest, right? But maybe that's just me making excuses for my life-ruining curiosity. 

Closely observing Seivarden, I saw she was surprised to be invited in as well, but her breeding kept her from gaping. I might have found that admirable, once. Ettan quietly showed herself out and equally quietly shut the door behind her. Meanwhile, Seivarden settled herself in across from me. I took the opportunity to study her.

She was older than I remembered, but not significantly so. Some things were the same, she had the same glossy dark hair, the same broad shoulders without needing pads. But other things revealed that all was not right in Seivarden's world. Her clothes, while well-cut and well-maintained, were at least a year out of fashion and beginning to show wear at the seams and fading at the cuff and collars. She’d lost weight. Also, she was in my office, a clean sign of being among the desperate or needy.

She was starting to fidget a little, just barely, under my scrutiny.

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?”

“I figured you were going to tell me no matter what.” She flushed a little. I couldn’t help myself from antagonising her.

She picked at her left cuff. I noticed that her nails were done, but she was missing the gloves I’d expect from a lady of her background. It didn’t fit with the appearance she was trying to put forward.

“Have I offended you in some way?” She asked me, a credible attempt at seeming unconcerned, but I could hear a small wobble in her voice.

“You were rude to my girl.” That startled her. I watched her visibly pull back the question, ‘What girl?’ It was just like Seivarden to overlook those she saw as beneath her. I’d worked with her a few times back in Justice of Toren, when I’d lived there. Her family had been significant, but not as significant as she thought, and their business and my business had crossed a few times. Minor stuff but I’d had to observe the niceties to keep the machine running. Seivarden had always looked through me like I wasn’t there, like it was a given that someone would be by to smooth things out for her. I’d been waiting for a sign of recognition from her since she’d walked in. Nothing so far. I hadn’t changed that much. Could she really not recognise me? Or was this some ploy?

I’d let an awkward silence descend between us. Not my job to make her comfortable. I saw her look down at my hands where I’d been worrying my thumb over the ring I wore on my index finger. Bad habit. I stilled my fingers.

She slowly dragged her eyes back up to my face, taking me in. I knew what she was seeing, ill-fitting suit draped on a stocky frame, nose that had been broken more than once. Her gaze lingered on my neck where I’d loosened my tie for a second. 

She gave me a minor nod of acknowledgement. “My apologies. You seem to have the better of me.” I could tell she wasn’t lying — she really didn’t remember me. “I’m Seivarden Vendaai,” she said with a slightly sardonic tone. She extended a hand.

I took it, gently. Her skin was soft, so wherever she’d been since I knew her, she hadn’t been working. She managed to contain a wince, but I felt her slight tensing, probably a response to having to touch a stranger which would have been unbearably intimate when she’d been a glorified socialite with illusions of business grandeur. “Detective Breq. It’s on the door.” She waited for more, but I gave her nothing.  “It’ll come to you. So, what do you need retrieved?” 

That startled her. “How did you know, I’m missing something?” 

“Lucky guess.” It wasn’t really; people were very predictable and Seivarden didn’t have the look of a distressed lover. 

“It’s my mother’s bracelet. It was stolen from my hotel and I’d like it back. It has significant monetary and emotional value.” I remembered the bracelet, heavy on the history rather than the sparkle. Her mother would wear it to impress. The story—which I had heard several times—was that some ancestor had done something or other. I’d heard that story or another like it a dozen time, the details never matter. Every prominent family had one of these pieces of ugly trash. Part and parcel with a chunk of land to make them legitimate and upstanding founding members of Justice of Toren.

I leaned back in my chair and thought for a moment.

“Well, that is a pickle. Scotch and you can tell me all about it?” She relaxed. This was obviously more what she’d had in mind. But I saw what I’d been looking for. She was still shivering slightly.

I got up and went to the cabinet below the gramophone, taking a moment to turn the music down. I brandished the bottle and she nodded but I didn’t see the telltale gleam. So alcohol wasn’t her poison of choice. I’d guess pills, but with her long sleeves it could have been something harder. I poured us each a finger and placed her glass in front of her. She didn’t pick it up.

Taking a sip, I pulled out my notebook. I wasn’t planning on writing anything down, but I found that props were essential.

“All right, start at the beginning. Where are you staying.”

She told me the name of the hotel. Middle rate, hard to see how she was affording it with her habit. Seems like the bracelet had gone missing while she’d been out at a gallery, hotel attendants had been useless. If one word she told me was true, I’d eat my hat.

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” She flushed a little. Angry or embarrassed, I couldn’t tell.

“Well, I didn’t want to cause a scene. And since I’m on my own, I thought it would be more prudent to have an advocate, like you, to help me.” No explanation of why she thought it would be a scene, or why she was alone.

Of course she didn’t feel the need to explain. Classic Vendaai, assuming the whole world knew and cared about their problems. Not me though. I hadn’t cared about Seivarden when she had been my problem, and I wasn’t going to start now. I had a life here, not much of one maybe, but I’d made a hardscrabble go of it, collecting lost trinkets, jumping out of bushes to take pictures of cheating lovers, all of it just enough to keep me in sweet blues records and precious alone time to listen to them. No intrusion from my past was going to break my routine.

I tamped down my anger. I thought about playing clueless, just to drive the point home, but I didn’t want to spend any more time listening to her than I had to. Better if she just gave me her business and left.

“All right, I’ll take the case.” She brightened up. “It’s 100 up front, daily expenses, and 100 when I retrieve the bracelet.” I looked at her closely but she didn’t blink, just pulled out some bills.

“Is cash acceptable?”

“Cash will do just fine.”

“Then I look forward to hearing from you.”

“You do that. My girl will take your details. She nodded and left. I sat for a minute.

I’d take her money, sure, sit around for a couple of days then tell her I couldn’t find anything. She’d move on, I’d move on, easy.

I heard a gentle knock on the doorframe. I couldn’t help a small smile from stealing across my face. I knew Ettan had to be dying with curiosity, had probably been expecting me to throw Seivarden out on her well-tailored butt. 

I waved her in. It was as I’d expected, she had two cups of tea laid out on a tray. Ettan would never push, no, but she could offer a cup and if some details just happened to come out in casual conversation, well, who could blame a girl for offering a willing ear? Now, I’d never really developed a taste for tea, but that couldn’t dent Ettan’s failproof belief that tea was the listening beverage.

She placed the tray down, picked up her cup and I picked up mine too, admiring the way the light shone through the porcelain. No matter how broke we got, Ettan would never let it show. We sat there for a second, just to let her stew, before I sighed. “What do you want to know?”

Ettan tilted her head and said, “It seems like you knew her?” 

“Yeah, don’t you?” She frowned a little.

“The name does feel a little familiar, but I don’t think I know any Seivardens. It’s an old-fashioned name.”

“They’re an old-fashioned family. You might remember them from the society pages. The Vendaais were always throwing some type of ball or another.” Recognition lit up her face.

“Oh, right! Their flower arrangements were always very tasteful.” Trust Ettan to focus on the important information. “I remember now. There was a fire at their family home; terrible tragedy. ” ‘Tragedy,’ I thought, a word that encompasses many things. ‘Suspicious fire that results in the death of all the named Vendaais aside from Seivarden’ is a bit of a mouthful though. Also freed up some prime real estate in a choice neighbourhood. Luckily Seivarden had been overseas for business at the time. There’s another one of those words, though: ‘lucky.’ “But surely that would make Seivarden very rich, so… ” Ettan paused here, trying, as always, to be tactful. I saved her the inconvenience.

“So why did Seivarden come crawling in here, looking like a fleeing Bohemian noble?” Ettan’s eyes sparkled in amusement, but she gave me her patented disapproving head tilt. But I knew I had her so I just shrugged and took a sip of my tea. Ettan wouldn’t have survived with me so long if she didn’t have some sort of a taste for the macabre. She’d tied her professional fortunes to a ghoul after all. Ghost and a ghoul, maybe Seivarden and I were a matched set. “Seems like there was some complication with the inheritance. Unfixable.”

“But that doesn’t explain how you know her.” My girl was sharp.

“She’s from Toren. I worked with her a few times.” Ettan was one of the few in this world who knew where I was from, and the only one I still talked to. She didn’t know the hows and the whys, but she knew that I never talked about it and she probably knew I wasn’t going to start now. She tried to hide her surprise by taking a sip of her tea. 

“Is that why she—“ Ettan blushed; this was the most personal question she’d ever asked me and I could tell she was uncomfortable. I don’t know why it mattered enough to her to push through her natural reticence, but I forced an answer.

“No, she didn’t recognise me.” I could tell Ettan was confused, maybe even a little offended on my behalf. I knew my face was totally bland, but Ettan had smoked me out before and I didn’t want her to know how much Seivarden had bothered me if she hadn’t figured it out already. So I switched tracks. “Ms. Vendaai came in looking for an heirloom, something she swears is hers by right.” I explained about her bracelet.

“Do you believe her?” My bartender would say all property is theft, but I didn’t think Ettan’s question was so political.

“She believes it, and her money is good.”

“So you’re taking the job.” Didn’t sound like a question, but I knew Ettan was still surprised. 

“The money is good.” Ettan was disappointed, but what can I say? I’m a disappointment. No romantic story here. Seivarden wasn’t my childhood sweetheart or my most hated enemy. She was just a woman, and the only thing we had in common was a place neither of us were anymore.

We drank the rest of our tea in silence. Before she got up, Ettan invited me to her home for dinner. She did it periodically and I never knew the rhyme or reason for when. Her family was great for her, adoring spouse, rambunctious children, a house full of light and noise, but it wasn’t for me. So Ettan let me demur, as always.

After Ettan left, I tried to settle back in, but I couldn’t. A voice that didn’t belong to me wouldn’t let me rest. 

“Damn it.” I got my coat and stomped out.

It was cold and damp so I turned up my collar and squared my shoulders against the night.

Treading the well-known streets of Mercy of Kalr, I let myself think, just for a furtive moment.

When I knew Seivarden, it was only for a little while, almost 15 years ago. I’d just been made and joined the Family. I got sent to provide some peace and quiet for a Vendaai event. That mostly just meant making sure that no one else was going to make trouble and that all of the bribes had been paid to the city for permits. There was always some ridiculousness that rich people wanted to set up at their soirees and if I was lucky no one would die after being pecked by a swan or hit by a firework or tangled in a hot air balloon. But if someone did, I’d handle that too. People always thought organised crime was about threatening people, or whacking them. But mostly the mob survives because it smooths things out, keeps everything working. You could never get anything built by legal means, for one thing, people are bad at working together, for another, the complexities are too great. Much simpler to find the one person with the rubber stamp, and make it worth their time to apply it in your favour.

Mostly the job was a lot of planning and very little muscle, but the muscle was all that Seivarden saw. She seemed young, somehow so much younger than me even though we were probably of similar years, and just starting out in her family’s business. I guess she must have had a head for the stuff if they’d sent her off to increase their fortunes elsewhere. But at the time she’d mostly been spoiled and entitled, treating me like hired help, which I let her. Some other goons in my position might have flexed a little, tried to put the frighteners on, but I’d never gone in for that stuff. 

Now I wondered how much she was aware of. Did she know how tangled her family were with the mob? How much of their fortune came from the murky side of grey? When the Geir took the Vendaai’s out, was she expecting the Family to retaliate for her? Or did she realise that her family were just casualties, proxy victims in a power struggle that had been going on since before any of us were born? 

Enough woolgathering; I’d reached my destination.

The Gem was the Undergarden’s most infamous bar. Its dinginess was only matched by the general degeneracy of its clientele. Anyone could get a drink there, which in pratice meant that only a select few did - the tired, the dispossessed, the foreign, and the very angry, and it just so happened to be my watering hole. I’d done a bit of a favour for the bartender a little ways back and now I got to drink for free. Well, one drink for free since Queter, the bartender, was born with sense, enough sense that my helping her out wouldn’t go to waste. She saw me walk in and pulled down my usual bottle. 

“I need to talk to your sister,” I said. Queter looked at my suspiciously and I tried to convey with my expression how much I absolutely was never going to bust her sister for being the most notorious fence in the Undergarden. I must have been successful, because she nodded her head towards the corner where Uran had been sitting the whole time. Not the corner with the revolutionaries loudly gesticulating over wine, but the other one with maximal dark corners. It looked dark, but one time Queter had shown me the setup with mirrors she had to keep an eye on everything. So you theoretically could get out the back way, but she’d know you’d done it. That piece of information had helped me destroy many an alibi. I’d clocked Uran the moment I walked in, but the niceties had to be observed. I nodded at Queter, slid my scotch off the bar, and walked over to where Uran had already kicked out a chair for me.

Now Queter was a fantastic bartender, quick to pour and quick at the draw with her bat to drive any agitators away. But she wasn’t going to win any beauty contests. Uran, on the other hand, was slight where Queter was stocky, with fine skin and good teeth. Same eyebrows, same steely jaw though, and definitely same stone-cold approach to business. It just goes to show you that in this town, looks and beauty can be deceptive.

I settled myself into the provided chair.

“How’s tricks?” Uran asked and I gave her a tight-lipped smile. She and Queter had barely spoken any English when I met them, and now Uran liked nothing better than deploying idioms at hapless punters.

“Shouldn’t that be my line?”

Uran spread her hands. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, I just drink here.” She tried to keep a straight face but had to cover her bare-faced lie with a cough. “It’s always business with you.” I inclined my head that that was the case. “Alright, lay it on me.”

“There’s a bracelet. Client says it’s hers and was stolen. Personally, I think she pawned it. Can you put the word round to the pawn shops or brokers, see if anyone’s turned it in?” I sketched the bracelet best as I could in my notebook then ripped out the page and handed it over.

Uran studied it closely. “You know, you maybe missed a calling here, with this drawing thing.”

“No one’s banging down my door for anything other than blue pictures.” Uran shrugged, I continued. “Just let me know.” I slid some money onto the table, Uran pretended not to see it but when I looked up from putting my notebook back, the bills were gone.

I stood up.

“How’s Ettan?” Uran asked and I was immediately suspicious.

“Who wants to know?”

“Can’t a friend be curious about another friend?” I didn’t even deign to respond to that.

“Have a good evening, Uran.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breq learns more about Seivarden.

Friday was much of the same. Closed out two accounts to no one’s satisfaction, then had lunch. It was after I came back from lunch that everything started to shift.

“Sir, you have a call from Uran,” Ettan called out through the door. I picked up.

“How do you know it’s me? I didn’t even say,” Uran was affronted.

“Hello, Uran.”

“Detective Breq,” Uran switched smoothly into business voice like I hadn’t heard her petulance.

“And the answer is that all your accents come out sounding about the same and about as unrealistic.”

“I have news for you,” Uran said, not acknowledging my criticism. I leaned back.  _ So fast? Something must be going on. _

“Not only was the bracelet not stolen, it’s up for auction. Very exclusive, very discrete. Part of me is curious as to how you heard about it.” The other part of her knew I would never say. “I checked and the ownership is all in order. Bracelet was sold as part of some estate sale, it’s all on the up and up.” My ears were ringing a little. There was no way Seivarden didn't know this. So that meant what? She didn’t need the bracelet located, she needed it  _ retrieved. Retrieved  _ came with some other connotations that basically boiled down to pissing someone else off and having to make a speedy getaway. So she came to the nearest, most gullible stiff and asked her to steal from some seriously shady people. I don’t know what made me more angry, that Seivarden took me for that easy mark, or, that for just a moment I’d been glad to see her.

Distantly I heard myself thank Uran. I ended the conversation and sat for a second. I walked out of my office, Ettan looked up at me immediately, expectant. I placed my hand carefully on her desk, leaned into the solidity of it.

“Can you call Miss Vendaai in? Tell her I have news.” Ettan nodded her  _ yes, sir  _ and I knocked on the surface of her desk once. “All right. I’m going out for a walk.”

Mercy of Kalr was a pretty standard city in almost all respects, but it did have one thing really spectacular and that was the Athoek Gardens up on the hill. Real city citizens always knew where they were in relation to the gardens and often gave directions that were only comprehensible if maintained the same positional attitude. It didn’t matter how famous the gardens were, there was always a quiet spot to go to, and I had mine, right near the lake near the arboreal section. The air was clean here and I breathed it in. One of the horticulturalists was checking the leaves of a nearby shrubbery and by unspoken rule we ignored each other. Coming here always helped me hold it together, reminded me of what was important.

I was only there a few minutes, but it was enough.

When I got back to the office, Seivarden was already there waiting, ignoring the cup of tea Ettan had made for her.

I walked straight through to my office door, unlocking it and gesturing for Seivarden to follow me. She settled into the seat and I wasted no time.

“I found your bracelet.”

“Oh?” She said with a failed attempt at seeming unconcerned.

“Yeah, it’s where you left it. Somehow you failed to mention that it’s not your bracelet at all. You sold it.” 

“Well it  _ should  _ be mine.” My brain almost whited out, I was so angry. So many years and Seivarden hadn’t changed; still the same entitled mind under a slightly cheaper hat. “It was my mother’s.”

“And how did she get it?” Seivarden opened her mouth but I steamrolled over her, “Your grandmother took it off the wrist of a dead Camorristi back in the old country. By your thinking, it rightfully belongs to their daughter.” Everything expensive is always soaked in blood. Seivarden flinched when I mentioned the Camorra, which told me she probably did know who was behind her family’s murder.

I’d heard all I needed to, though. She had lied to me, which was a given, but for so petty a reason. She still showed the same lack of imagination, just trying to get me to do some dirty work for her.

I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out the envelope of cash she’d given me.

“Take your money,” I said, throwing it back at her, “I’m firing you.”

She sat there, agitated, trying to collect her money, while my mind suddenly ran away. Why me?  _ Mercy of Kalr  _ was a fantastic city for many things, known for its charming tea shops, famous garden, and infamous nightlife in the Undergarden, and for its fair share of PIs. I cursed myself for not thinking about it earlier. Here I was, thinking I was so detached when one dame from my past could knock me off my feet just by breathing in my general direction.

“Wait.” She looked at me, eyes limpid and hopeful. Cute, but no dice. I’d seen sadder looks from people far more deserving than her. “Who sent you?” She looked offended and raised her nose. That’s the Seivarden that I knew. The sight cheered me to no end.

“Just some woman.” I waited for more. 

“Do you make a habit of listening to random women?” She was getting really annoyed now, but I was just starting to enjoy myself. 

“No. I know her family. She’s one of the Awers. Skaaiat. She found me, said you would help.” My hand shot out and slapped down the money.

“I changed my mind.  I’m back on the case.” Skaaiat and I didn’t normally talk. Hell, we hadn't talked at all since she helped me get to Mercy of Kalr all those years ago. But this message was clear enough. We’d only ever agreed on two things, and one of them was dead. If Skaaiat had sent Seivarden,  that could mean only one thing: if I played this right, something here would help me hurt my enemy.

Seivarden stood there, fingers millimetres from mine, brown eyes shining with confusion and upset. I nodded towards the door. “You can go. I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

And so, Seivarden stumbled slightly out into the hallway.

The moment the door closed behind her, I sprang up. Throwing on my coat, I opened up the window and ducked into the fire escape. 

I knew my enemy, Anaander Mianaai, woman who centralised the mob and yet still lived, wouldn’t give a flying fig about some bracelet, so there had to be something more going on. And my only clue had just walked out of my office on worn-in shoes.

So I tailed her. 

I followed her around the corner, where she paused to rest her hand against the wall and breathe a little, collecting herself. I followed her when she went to get tea and a cake at a worn-down teashop right at the border of the Undergarden and the Mission. I followed her back to her hotel where she changed for dinner. Dinner itself was at an unremarkable little restaurant close to the hotel. Then she went back to the hotel. I assumed that’s where her drugs were so I settled in for a bit when when she didn’t come out, I slipped some money to the bellhop to let me know when she left in the morning. I made a mental note to add that to Seivarden’s bill. Once again I wondered where the money came from.

Shrugging, I went back to my one room flat and ate a packet of fish and chips straight from the newspaper it came in. Read some of the paper for giggles. Looks like they were opening up a Chinese garden wing in the Mercy of Kalr Gardens. Some big business leader from China was coming over with some special orchids or something. Fascinating. Thus fortified, I went to sleep. All in all, a more eventful day than I’d anticipated. 

\---

The next day’s stalking was more of the same, except she spent an excessive amount of time staring at the window display at Walker’s department store. She finally moved on. I got curious enough to look at it, probably my first time ever since I’d never been that fussed with fashion. It was some display of fur stoles. Typical. I don’t know what I expected.

I might have worried that Seivarden would notice that she’d gained me as a shadow but I can be unobtrusive when needed, and Seivarden seemed wrapped up in her own world. Typical.

I worried that Sunday would be the same, but I shouldn’t have. The first half of the day passed equally calmly, a slow procession of tea and walks through the gardens.

But the evening had its own surprises. Breaking her pattern, Seivarden changed for dinner into a fetching evening costume. Hmm. That look would be completed with a fur wrap of some kind, it seemed a little bare, as-is. She was picked up in a town car. I had my notebook out to grab a sketch but it wasn’t necessary. I recognised that face from my Friday night dinner. What was Seivarden Vendaai doing with an esteemed Chinese orchid provider?

Wherever they were going, I wouldn’t be able to follow, so I settled in at the cafe across the street. The music wasn’t really to my liking; the Andrews Sisters weren’t really my speed, but they were good for dancing. And I hadn’t gone dancing in a few years. Without other distractions, the harmonies started to grate and I could swear I started to hear more notes than they were singing. But the coffee was okay so I focused on that. Finally Seivarden was back, smiling up at her escort while getting a hand out of the car. 

As soon as the car moved away two shadows broke out of the gloom of the alley and I was already up and running before I could think about it. Across the street in less than 5 seconds, I slammed into the one that was just about to grab her when I caught the glint of a knife.

Everything slowed down. 

Knife wielder was saying something, but I wasn’t listening. Instead I was watching her eyes, waiting for my moment. Sure enough, when the other goon stumbled to her feet, the one with the knife couldn’t help but glance over and I moved.

First, I closed the distance to neutralise the advantage of her weapon, then grabbing firmly at her elbow and wrist, I pushed up and in until she had no option but to either drop the knife or stab herself. Showing some brains, she opted to drop the knife. It was textbook, just like I’d been taught it.

Grabbing the knife, I easily deflected the very predictable bullrush from the other one by spinning my formerly knife wielding friend into her path. As they went down together, I put myself between them and Seivarden. The one with brains earned her moniker because she looked up, saw my face and pulled her friend up to run back to their car. Now that was a stupid move, not leaving anyone behind the wheel. 

The whole thing took less than a minute, tops.

Next thing I knew, I had an armful of hysterical Seivarden.

“Whoa, hey there,” I said.

“They were going to kill me,” she said, gasping between words. Now was probably not the time to explain that was clearly a grab and go, with Seivarden being the package. 

“Well, you’re fine now, so you can—” I tried to finish saying she could go back to her hotel when my words were muffled by her mouth. 

Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was the moon, maybe I didn’t have the heart to turn her down but I tilted my head up and kissed her back. After the first shock of newness—the taste and smell of her so foreign—her lips just became lips that were pressed against mine, moving together. I pulled her closer to me.

We broke apart. Sex with clients was, as a rule, a bad idea. And I was pretty sure I’d only just been upgraded in Seivarden’s mind from ‘useful patsy’ to ‘useful patsy  _ with fists _ ’.

“Listen—” I started, but she cut me off.

“I can’t go back, they know where I’m staying.”

“Alright.”

Neither of us spoke on the cab ride, maybe out of a mutual understanding that this moment was stolen from time, but we didn’t let go. I pulled her up my three flights of stairs, into my room and away from the disapproving stares of my neighbours. We fit together. She folded her larger frame and curved into the spaces of mine. 

Later, with the moonlight streaming over her, my fingers gently tracing the curve of her hip, I huffed out a small laugh. It was a small indulgence, like this whole evening had been. But sometimes the body just has its wants, and I assumed that was the same for Seivarden.

Somewhat surprisingly, she was still there in the morning. She smiled at me sleepily and gave me a kiss.

Having no confidence in her culinary skills, I poured us each a bowl of Rice Krispies. Perfectly healthy start to anyone’s day, and I boiled some water for coffee, making it a complete meal. After she doctored her coffee, Seivarden ran the spoon around the rim once,  _ scrape, scrape _ and again, counterclockwise for good measure. I waited. You have to be good at that in my line of work.

Finally she put her spoon down. “You must have questions.”

“Not really,” I said taking a sip of coffee. That got her attention. “The way I figure it, you’re just going to lie some more and I think I see the shape of it. You’re in over your head, you didn’t mean for it to get this far, and now you’ve got some folks gunning for you with no way to get them to shove off.”

She took a breath. “If you think so little of me, why did you save me last night?” Gotta admit, that stumped me. Why did I do that? It was the exact opposite of minding my own business.

“I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

“No you’re not.” I prepared myself to bluff my way out of this. “You know, I didn’t just come to you on Awer’s say so. I looked you up. You only take the hard luck cases and you always get it done,” she tilted her chin defiantly, “I think you were looking for an excuse to keep me on and I don’t think you’re going to abandon me now.” I sipped my coffee some more. Describing people’s character was my M.O. and I didn’t appreciate having it turned on me.

“Why? Because I’ve seen you naked?” She looked at me through her lashes. It all made sense though if she saw sex as a way to keep my useful fists around. And the kicker was that she had my number; I couldn’t just leave her in the cold now. I’d always been this soft and just lucky that none of my other lovers had wanted to exploit that.

“Let’s say all that is true. Let’s say that having found out that there are some real shady characters after you, that I’m more inclined to keep you close and help you out. Knowing that, do you think you could try maybe giving me at least 50% truth? Just asking out of blind hope here.”

She didn’t meet my eyes and I sighed. Sometimes the direct approach bears fruit, but not very often, and my luck had always been thin.

“I don’t know who those people were or what they wanted from me.” I could believe that she didn't know them personally, but she had to recognise the type. “But the Vendaai’s were—are—a very significant family, and threats on our lives were not rare.” That statement managed to be both an understatement and an example of delusions of grandeur. 

“Right. Well, when do you expect these mystery individuals to come again?” She did actually look slightly perturbed at the question, her lips forming a perfect moue of displeasure, and she got just the hint of a wrinkle between her brows. There was something about the fashionable solidness of her frame mixed with the almost incongruous delicacy of her expression that was doing something a little funny to my chest. Potentially a laugh was trying to come out? I couldn’t be sure so I changed the subject. “Guess we’ll just have to stick together.

How about the dashing figure you were out with last night?” I wasn’t very hopeful, but eventually if you keep throwing lines out there should be a fish. I’d never been fishing but I knew someone back in Toren who did all the time and she swore by that adage.

Seivarden immediately turned seductive, peeking at me coyly over her shoulder, letting her hair drape into her face. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about anything, especially after last night.” I was starting to believe that fish were a myth. But I couldn’t insult the lady by rejecting the dish she’d prepared for me so I pulled her in and we were lost to the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breq has to do her job.

I oversaw Seivarden’s return to her hotel. It seems our nighttime visitors hadn’t had the imagination to ransack her room. Either that or they knew that what they wanted wasn’t there. She gathered up her meager possessions and we caught a cab to a much nicer hotel. I figured I knew where the money was coming from but she didn’t volunteer and I didn’t ask.

I debated briefly what to do with her and in the end I brought her with me to the office. 

When we walked in, Ettan wordlessly handed me my messages. Celar had messaged, again. Seivarden was just prowling around the edges, touching the edges of all the picture frames and causing Ettan to nearly twitch out of her skin. I left Seivarden to it for a bit but then she started circling closer and closer to my gramophone and that was dangerous territory. I needed to do some work and Seivarden was clearly stir crazy.

“You might as well head out for a while.” She looked at me, hair bouncing.

“Is that safe?” I shrugged a little; the signs were unclear.

“You can take Ettan with you.” Credit to Seivarden, she showed no apprehension and went off to freshen up. I grabbed some money out of my desk.

I approached Ettan’s desk. “Listen, can you take Seivarden out for—” I calculated “—at least four hours?” I needed to talk to someone but she wouldn’t be awake for a while.  “Go get a coffee or something.” I pressed the money into her hand, and leaned in. “Let me know if she talks to anyone, or if she tries to shake you.” Ettan nodded, message received. Seivarden wouldn’t drop any hints if I was around, but I bet she’d underestimate Ettan again. I thought for a second and considered the angles. How to get Seivarden to drop her guard? “Take her shopping,” I said, peeling off a few more bills, “maybe Walker’s? She needs gloves and a wrap or shawl or something.” 

Ettan looked up at me like I’d turned into an alien. I wiped at my face a little but her expression didn’t change. “What, do I have a smudge?”

“No,” she said slowly, “I just didn’t know you cared so much about...fashion.” I stared at her blankly but luckily Seivarden came back in.

“Right!” Seivarden said, brightly, “ready to go?”

\---

Since I had some time to kill, I figured I’d wrap up the Celar case. Celar’s daughter Piat had been sued for breach of promise after she’d broken off things with Raughd Denche when the latter ran into some legal troubles. Raughd was a real piece of work, which luckily meant it was pretty easy for me to put together a dossier designed to both prove that Raughd broke faith first, and to hopefully shame her powerful mother into dropping her complaint.

It was the kind of torrid case that people brought me in for and then wanted nothing to do with after. Better to keep their hands clean.

I took what I had to Piat and her mother. 

Celar cried. I hate the weepers, I never know where to look. My eyes cast around and landed on Piat, just sitting next to her mother, stone faced. I’d seen that expression before. Nothing I’d brought had been a surprise to her and I wondered just why these rich families did this to their daughters. Who was free to love? Not this child with all her wealth, not the kids who wandered the street. I passed my hand over my brow, felt the weight of my ring press into it.

Just typical, Celar wanted me to deliver the compromising material to the Denches.

I hammered out the details with Celar, as Piat retired with a headache. I couldn’t blame her.

Stepping outside, it was almost a surprise that it was a sunny day. I breathed it in. Celar’s house was far enough up the hill that it was above the steam and sweat of the city proper so all I got was a hint of grass and a small bite of desert.

I checked my watch. It was still a little early, but I was impatient.

The Gem had just opened for the lunchtime crowd, but looking around, it was just the hardcore drinkers who had planted themselves at the bar.

Queter raised a hand at me and I walked over to the edge of the bar. Leaning in, I said, “I need to talk to your girlfriend.”

“What’s in it for me?” I was a little taken aback. Queter had never stopped me before. I must have looked particularly pole-axed because Queter rolled her eyes. “Come for dinner. Bring that piece you’ve been slumming with.” How was I not surprised that Queter had heard all about it? She probably knew the colour of shirt I was wearing.

“Sure,” I said. If I didn’t commit, I could put it off. That out of the way I was free to go up the stairs.

“To what do I owe this pleasure.” Sphene was sitting in her wingback chair, fully turned away from the door. So dramatic as always. Sphene’s office was the polar opposite of mine. Photos and plaques covered every inch of the walls except where I could see the peeling paper underneath and piles of papers were stacked on every surface.

“I need some information.” 

“Then you have come to the right place.” Sphene turned around. We’d only been talking for ten seconds and I was already having to restrain myself from committing bodily harm. But luckily I had lots of practice with Sphene. She’d never broken me once and today would not be that day. I watched her eyebrow slowly sink back down as she realised that this was not her moment to see me lose it.

“I have a name: Ying Chang. I’d like to know a little about her background.”

“And you assume she’s embroiled in something shady, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“She’s a Chinese native, here on business. I’d like to know if she’s got ties to the Triads and if so, how deep they are. So I guess yes, potentially embroiled.” Sphene leaned back.

“Do you know how old money her family are? Over there, anyone who’s been around for long enough is tangled up in some way with the Triad. It’s all very boring — a matter of tea drinking and barely illicit gambling,” Sphene was warming up to her favourite hobby, complaining about how things used to be better. Maybe that was true for Sphene, who used to run some inland city before Anaander Mianaai choked off all the small dons, but she still had a nice place, a loving girlfriend, and a captive audience for her ramblings that currently consisted of me. Also she was still alive. Most people who were in Anaander’s way couldn’t say the same. “The mob in this country is going the same way. Used to be that you could really make something of yourself by signing up, it was a true agent of change. No one was safe. You could be up one day, down the next, always looking around for the knife in the back. Real chaos, the kind that made fat cats shake in their boots." 

Sphene showed no sign of stopping. "Now that tyrant Anaander is sanding all of the corners off, turning it into just a social circle that people acknowledge on tax day but ignore the rest of the year—like church. Keeps the rich rich is all it does nowadays. Even the misery is grinding and unrelenting, it lacks the piquancy of periodic terror. It’s all some weak tea.” 

I felt tired and the ache was back in my knee, maybe a sign it would rain, but definitely a sign I needed to get out of there.

“Sphene, with a speech like that, you make Anaander sound pretty great.” Sphene made an offended squawking noise.

“The day I hear you praise Anaander Mianaai is when I finally move to Rio.” I tipped my hat. 

I levered myself up and towards the door. “Check up on that name for me, willya?”

“Sure thing, see you for dinner.” I ground my teeth.

\---

Back at the office, Seivarden and Ettan were admiring their purchases over coffee. I gave them a cursory glance; Seivarden now had some sleek black elbow length gloves on. They left a glimpse of arm visible between their ends and the beginning of her capped sleeves. It looked good but I guess I missed looking at her hands.

“Well? What do you think?” It took me a second to realise she was modelling a fur stole.

I nodded, “looks good.” Her smile dimmed a little, which was baffling. Ettan was also giving me a reproachful look. Sensing danger, I tried again, “I knew mink would suit you — it will go well with your evening dress.” Seivarden preened a little so I must have done acceptably. That duty discharged, I turned to Ettan. “Can you set up an appointment for me with Fosyf Denche for tomorrow morning? And get ready to invoice Celar.” Ettan looked supremely satisfied; after watching me work the case she was just as eager to get Raughd dealt with as any of us.

I turned to Seivarden who had resumed sipping her coffee. “Just let me put together this file for Ettan to mimeograph and I can walk you back to your hotel.”

Outside of the front doors, I turned to bid adieu to Seivarden at the exact moment she turned to me and bit her lip, which is how I ended up starving at 8 o’clock with my head pillowed on the chest of a very naked Seivarden. I ran my fingers down her arm, pausing in the join of her elbow. Her breath caught a little.

“Heroin is the drug of the day, didn’t you know?” She made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“I know that it’s killing jazz.” It felt like every day there was a new obituary. At the very least it was hell on the embouchure. No one liked a floppy trombone player; the buzzing could drive you mad. 

“I’m clean.” I paused a little judgmentally, some of those track marks seemed pretty new.

“How long?”

“About a week,” she admitted. That would put it just before she walked into the office. It would explain the shakes, but not why she quit. I didn’t really know why I was asking, except that it was a piece of the puzzle.

“Why?” I wanted to look up at her, but I was afraid to startle her. She was quiet for a long moment, but I was ok to wait for as long as she needed.

“I’m not dead. I thought I was for a while, that I’d died in the fire and they’d failed to tell me, but I’m not. And if I’m not going to be dead, then there are certain obligations on me as a Vendaai.” There didn’t seem to be anything else forthcoming so I prompted,

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” It was more of a sigh than a word. “I’m going to build it back up. Bring the Vendaai name back at the very least. Or as near as I can.”

Now I had to look at her so I sat up letting the sheet pool at my waist. Seivarden’s eyes darted down but I captured them with my own. “Sounds like that’s going to take some money.” Which she didn’t have, hotel room notwithstanding. She looked down. Bulls-eye. A business venture explained the entrance of Ms. Chang, but I just couldn’t figure out where this heirloom fit into it. Token of legitimacy? If that were the case, for whom? For Seivarden herself, or was there more to it? And if that wasn’t the reason she wanted it, then what was?

And how did Anaander fit in?

I could relax in Seivarden’s bed as much as I wanted, but I couldn’t forget why I was keeping her close. There was a path connecting her to Anaander Mianaai and she was going to lead me down it. And right now Seivarden was getting what she wanted too. A mutually beneficial exchange.

“I’ve still got friends.”

“Friends you haven’t already tapped out for funds?” I thought she’d flush angrily, but I guess she was in too good of a mood and just grinned.

“You know me so well. But I’ve got a plan.” I was going to ask but then my stomach took the moment to complain loudly and Seivarden burst out laughing. The moment was lost.

“I don’t feel like letting you get dressed. How about I order something up?” 

\---

Facing Fosyf in yesterday’s clothes wasn’t my ideal but all-in-all I’d woken up too late to make the trip across town to my room. So I did the best I could to freshen up with a clean shirt in the office and a cup of Ettan’s tea.

Standing outside Fosyf’s mansion, I regretted all of the life choices that had led me to this moment, but there was nothing for it.

It was as bad as I expected. Fosyf went icy as soon as I explained that Celar would be challenging the breach of promise suit with a countersuit of her own. Raughd blustered as I laid out the evidence but by the end even she couldn’t claim it was fabricated. When I was done, Fosyf’s lips had almost gone transparent from how hard she was pressing them together.

“Well, Raughd, this is unpleasant.” Raughd went still. 

“Mother, I —”

“Silence. You’re no daughter of mine.” I kept my eyes on Raughd; right now she was at her most dangerous. But she just burst into tears and fled the room.

“Detective Breq.” I straightened, “You have one minute to leave the premises.” I reached to gather my documentation but Fosyf laid out one slim hand on them before I could. “I shall keep these.” And that is why it pays to make copies.

I scrammed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are some awkward meals.

When I got back to the office from the Denche’s, I was already loosening my tie, ready for a stiff drink to wash the scent of the Denches out of my mouth. Ettan saw my entrance, grimaced sympathetically and poured me a finger of scotch. I swished it around in my mouth.

“Well, we’re in the endgame now.”

“I mailed the invoice to Celar.”

“Thanks, doll.” Ettan hesitated for a second.

“What is it?”

“Queter called: she said to remind you of dinner tonight at 7.” Internally I pitched a fit. The tenuous connection Seivarden and I had was situational and temporary and it wasn’t what Uran wanted to see, and I wasn’t going to pretend to be happy families. What would be the point of lying? I was years past keeping up appearances and Seivarden was nothing but.

“Noted.” I checked my watch. I could still grab a late lunch with Seivarden if I left now.

The afternoon was diverting enough but by 6 o’clock all my tension was back. It was only dawning on me how awkward this evening was going to be as I was talking Seivarden out of dressing for dinner. I finally managed to convey that this was a Casual Dinner With Close Friends but I still couldn’t convince her not to bring a bottle of wine. 

I think it was a reasonable vintage but Queter just cast her seasoned eye over it before putting it on a table and leading us in to where Sphene was already shaking out some boulevardiers. I tried to knock mine back subtly but Sphene caught me and grinned like a shark. 

Seivarden was on her best behaviour, which was unfortunately extremely upscale in a way that made Queter clearly uncomfortable. I sat there like a lump and Sphene was copying me so it was left to Uran and Seivarden to attempt conversation. They’d apparently read some of the same philosophers — Seivarden at university, Uran because she was just that bright. I noticed the danger too late though. At some point they’d wandered into talking about Rosa Luxemburg and when revolution was appropriate, no, necessary even. On cue, Sphene found her voice for the first time. 

“All governments are inherently oppressive and tyrannical. Power breeds corruption and complacency.” I happened to know that Uran agreed with this position so I expected no help in redirecting the conversation.

Seivarden continued tremulously, trying to keep the atmosphere light, “Things seem pretty good in Mercy of Kalr, for example, your house is charming.” I cast around for Queter but she was in the kitchen pulling together the next course.

“Mayor Giarod is only not corrupt because the mob here is such a Mickey Mouse operation. Not like the real cities though. They said in Justice of Toren you couldn’t spit on a corner that didn’t have mob money tied up in it,” Sphene said with a pointed look at me. I just sighed a little ignoring her as usual, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Seivarden dab the corner of mouth fiercely with her napkin.

“Excuse me,” she said, and pushed away from the table. Sphene gave me a look as I followed Seivarden out, in the background I could hear Uran admonishing her, which lifted my spirits. Uran had worked so hard to get me here and now I had an excuse to never come for dinner again. Huh. Maybe Sphene was doing me a favour.

I caught up to Seivarden before she’d even made it to the end of the block. 

“Oh,” she said, seeing me, “I just couldn’t—my family—“ but she couldn’t continue. I was shocked to see she was crying, I guess I’d thought she was playing it up for the strangers.  Unsure of what to do, I gathered her into my arms.

“I know.”

“They said it was an accident, but it wasn’t. They said my family must have done something, but they  _ didn’t. _ ” I just held her.

“I know,” I repeated. Knowing how things usually went down, I guessed that probably the Geir family had wanted something the Vendaai’s had and wanted it badly enough to get the Family to look the other way.  “I know. Sphene didn’t mean anything by it, she was trying to rile me up.”

“You? How?” I debated for a moment what to say.

“I’m from there.” I wasn’t going to talk about how Sphene was making some very specific jabs at my mob involvement, so I went with, “we have a disagreement about whether Justice of Toren is a cesspit or not.” I tried a grin, which felt a bit weird on my face, hopefully it wasn’t too much of a grimace. “Justice of Toren is clearly the best city in the world, so Sphene is dead wrong.” Seivarden was still staring at me, lips parted, eyes wide. 

“Come home with me.”

The next morning, when Seivarden was getting ready to go back to her hotel, I mentioned, “You know, you don’t have to keep that room. You can stay with me.” I could keep a closer eye on her that way. She demurred, like I knew she would. 

“A woman has to have some secrets, right?” she said, aiming for a light tone, belied by a slight tremble. I agreed that it was so.  _ What secrets  _ do  _ you have, Seivarden? _

That’s the thing about a dame like her, she’ll either decide if she’s going to jump off the bridge or not. And besides, I wasn’t here for her, I had goals and she wasn’t going to distract me.

After dinner, I thought she’d let the topic of Justice of Toren drop, but she didn’t, she kept bringing it up casually all morning. “The trains are fine, but nothing like the subway in—,” or “this city just smells wrong doesn’t it?...in comparison to—“ or “do you remember when—“

It was starting to give me a headache.

I had things to do so I needed to find a way to occupy Seivarden for a while. There was a new Bette Davis film in theatres, one of the historical ones. Maybe I could park Seivarden there for a while. I twisted the ring on my finger, thinking.

But I needn’t have bothered because Seivarden had already made dinner plans and her shiftiness made me dead certain it was with her foreign friend. Seivarden confirmed she’d been working with her working to expand the Vendaai’s connections in China before their demise,  _ “the tea is great there, but nothing like—“ _ which answered exactly zero of my real questions.

It had been getting chillier so Ettan had a thermos of tea ready for me to take. “See you tomorrow,” she said and smiled.

I’d just stepped out of the building when a beat cop flagged me down. “Detective wants to see you.”

Detective Lusulun had a desk in the 15th precinct, but she usually held court at Barney’s diner. I slid into the booth across from her courtesy of a forceful shove from my new uniformed friend.

“Watch it,” I muttered as a formality. Police were going to shove, it was their nature.

“So you’ve finally gotten Raughd Denche.” The thing I most appreciated about Lusulun was her ability to get to the point. Especially in moments like this when I was on the clock. “It only took you two years.”

“Two and a half, but who’s counting.” Lusulun straightened up.

“This is a warning you that there has been a complaint that you’ve been harassing a private citizen. You are hereby reminded that as a private citizen you are prohibited from stalking, spying, or assaulting any other citizens.” 

“Is that all?” I made to stand up.

“Only you Breq,” Lusulun said shaking her head, “only you. Anyone else and they’d be crowing from the rafters.” I shrugged that this was probably the case. “I want the file,” Lusulun took on a bit of a bloodthirsty affect. Music to my ears. There was enough there that I hoped even Fosyf couldn’t stonewall Lusulun from doing something.

“Fair enough, I’ll get it to you tomorrow.” I could see Lusulun was almost ready to object and I pressed my thumb to my index finger to stay calm. She saw me do it and changed her mind.

I saluted Officer Pushy on my way out of the diner.

And that’s why you make three copies.

\---

I hadn’t missed a ‘Tree Talk with Dr. Elming’ in almost 3 years. I stayed at the fringes as usual, I was preparing to leave early as always, when I caught someone else lurking on the verges of her talk. I guess I’d have to postpone getting absolutely trashed on cheap whiskey in the privacy of my room. 

I made to leave, drawing my shadow away from the populated areas before sharply turned back. She froze like a particularly unflattering deer and I took advantage of her brief indecision and had her up against a lamp pole faster than you can say ‘incompetence.’

“Stay away from the gardens.” I gave her a little shake to emphasize my point. She looked gratifyingly terrified. I pushed her one last time before letting go. She slid down a little bit before she got her feet beneath her.

I made to leave but she made a sound. “Um.” I turned back slowly, almost incredulous. “But, you see, you go to the gardens, so…” Unbelievable. Was she expecting me to facilitate my own stalking?

“What’s your name?”

“T-Tisarwat?”

“Well, Tisarwat, figure it out.” And with that I pushed past her and made my way out.

A bit of a blip, this Tisarwat, but not enough to interrupt my time honoured traditions. The landlady sighed when she saw the bottle of whiskey and I just gave her a salute. She could sigh all she liked I was the only tenant who paid rent regularly and hadn’t had a screaming row so I was a real superstar tenant. 

I opened the bottle.

The first sip I took burned cleanly. I wondered about the presence of one of Anaander’s minions, even if it was a clearly inexperienced one. My being in Mercy of Kalr was no accident; it was one of the few places with very little presence from the Family. It made it an ideal place to stash a family member you wanted to keep well out of things, or to go to ground when you wanted to avoid getting pulled back in.

There were no coincidences.

If Anaander’s tendrils were here, there was something she wanted that she’d never needed to want before. And the only new thing in this town was Seivarden.

I put her out of my mind. Wednesdays weren’t about thinking.

I was really settled into it when Seivarden showed up, unutterably lovely in her getup with fur. I couldn’t look at her.

She sighed and I flinched.

But she didn’t say anything, just undid my tie and took it off. Then she knelt and untied my right shoe, sliding my foot out. Repeated the process on my left. I swallowed thickly. Remembered nights of coming in late, laughing, dead on my feet and hands just as gentle as these. I felt my stomach roil with nausea. I shouldn’t have drunk so much.

Seivarden hauled me up, easy as anything and dragged me over to my bed.

“Who was she?”

“Hmm?” Getting me horizontal had tipped me over into the sleep zone.

“The woman who gave you that ring.”

“She was,” I trailed off a little, “she was my reason. And now all I have is a ring.” Something about that was twinging something, but I was unconscious before I could puzzle it out.

\---

When I woke up, I stayed perfectly still for a second, assessing. Yep, pretty bad, but no worse than usual. The evening was wafting back to me — clever sneaky Seivarden, waiting until I was weak to ask her questions.  

I sat up slowly, dislodging a murmuring Seivarden. She’d left my watch and a glass of water with some tablets. I changed my mind; bless the woman, she was a true friend.

Midway through my toast, I figured out what was bugging me last night. Seivarden had more than a bracelet. There was a whole lot of Vendaai heirlooms that were up for auction. What made that bracelet special? I had a suspicion but I’d have to do more research to be sure.

“Mmm, morning.” She stretched like a cat, turning the word into a full body acknowledgement. She leaned over, gave me a kiss on the cheek and rolled out of bed, grabbing the toothbrush I kept by the sink.

It was all starting to come back to me.

The annoying intrusion of Anaander Mianaai into my city, Seivarden meeting with her foreign contact, and my realisation about her bracelet. All of it clicking into place. 

Dimly I could hear Seivarden muttering at the coffee machine, but all of that faded into the background—I had a plan.

\---

“You’re going to buy it.” Uran sounded sceptical over the phone and I couldn’t blame her. “It’s going to cost you.”

“I’m good for the money.” She made a surprised sound and I tried not to be offended given that Ettan had once seen me eat an abandoned sandwich in the Gem. We finalised some details and I hung up. 

Ettan had half-risen in surprise when she saw me walk in. I’m not sure I’d ever been in before 1pm on a Thursday. I could almost sense her hovering outside of the door, silhouetted as she was against the glass. I didn’t have time to explain. The die had been cast; now was the time for action.

I grabbed the Denche file and yanked open the door.

This body deeply needed some fried food so I flagged down the waitress as soon as I slid in the booth across from Lusulun. She just raised an eyebrow at me as I slid the folder across to her. 

I was just mopping up my eggs with the last of my toast when she sighed and closed the file.

“You know, I hadn’t wanted to believe you.” That I remembered. “I wonder how much would have been different if I’d acted then.” I knew, but it didn’t need to be thought about. And Lusulun was probably putting more regret on herself than she needed, it wouldn’t have been as easy to get to Raughd when it was just about what she’d done to a poor immigrant girl. I’d seen it before. 

I tapped my spoon against my cup. “Was there something else?” Lusulun asked.

“Well, now you mention it—” 

\---

I’d handed a sandwich off to Tisarwat on my way out of the diner. She’d been pressed up against the window and was almost comically grateful to get some melted cheese. When I got to work I still wouldn’t let her inside the building though. There had to be some limits.

_ I definitely wasn’t such a pushover at her age,  _ I thought as I started pulling up the trick floorboards around the office to remove the bundles of cash I kept there.  _ But maybe that’s why no one ever bought me a sandwich.  _ Maybe it would be nice if just once someone came into the office to tell me they’d solved a problem. I probably would have a heart attack from sheer surprise.

Ettan walked in, holding some notes. She stopped dead the moment she crossed the threshold. I saw her eyes flick to the gramophone and for a wild moment I thought she was wondering why there wasn’t any music playing. But then I remembered what I was doing and got offended. Putting bills in there would mess with the resonance — I’d never do that.

We were caught in a standoff for a couple of seconds. Me, on the floor, shoulder deep into the guts of the building, her staring down at me.

“Did you have news for me?” She shook herself a little and cleared her throat.

“Lusulun called to let you know Raughd was out on bail and braying for your blood. Well, she didn’t say it like that, it was more of a—“

“Okay, I get it.” Raughd had never taken no for an answer in her life and I could imagine her reaction to being chastised so officially.

“Also, Uran called to say she’d ‘got it’ but wouldn’t explain.” I just nodded. Ettan bit her lip.

“Sir, I—“ and I realised I wasn’t going to get away with slipping away, she was going to make us talk about it.

“You’ve been an exemplary secretary Ettan.” I stood up and grabbed an envelope on the desk. “Here. This is for you. I gave you some great references.” She groped her hand forward and collapsed into the chair which left me in the awkward position of staring down at her while she gripped the envelope for dear life. I’d put more than the next few weeks wages in there, but I wasn’t sure if she’d noticed yet.

“Can I talk you out of it?” Her voice was awful, low and gritted like gears grinding, like she couldn’t get her voice going.  

“You’ll be okay, there’s always someone on the lookout for a smart girl like you to keep their life together.” She laughed but it was clogged and  _ oh shit, she’s crying.  _ I passed her my handkerchief and she grabbed it angrily.

“Don’t be cruel. Even my kids like you even though you only come by during the feast days.” Ettan’s kugel was worth talking to strangers for. She snapped her head up, eyes full of fire locked on mine. “Try not to die.” I tried to bluff for a bit.

“I’m not stupid, you wouldn’t be doing all of this if you thought you were coming back, which means you’re wrapped up in something big. So. Try not to die.”

I blinked. “So, if I told you I was leaving you my records…”

“I’d tell you where to shove them.” But she smiled at me. Briefly that I didn’t have to respond, but still there. “I’d take some of your whiskey though.” Fair enough. I pulled it out of my desk with two cups and we toasted each other.


	5. Chapter 5

I left the office burdened with more than money. Chatting with Ettan had made me realised how much I’d managed to settle in in Mercy of Kalr. When I’d first arrived, I’d been a transplant, fiercely committed to getting connected to nothing and no one. But it had snuck up on me, one tendril at a time, and here I was with an ex-employee who didn’t want me dead, a solid contact on the police force, and a bar where they knew my order that I was headed towards. All of those things were weights I had to carry.

I’d lost myself in a bit of a reverie there, but I’d found my way to my destination. Mercy of Kalr would never steer me wrong. As much as I’d grown attached to it, it had become attached to me. I could feel its regard, an almost palpable thing. The shadows here gripped me when I wanted to be hidden, the streets were empty when I wanted to be alone, and full when I needed to be distracted. It gave me rich people when I needed someone to hate. There was always something going on but never so much I couldn’t just ignore it. The city wasn’t a part of myself the way Justice of Toren had been, but it loved me, almost tangibly. When I just woke up, when I was drunk, when the jazz hit me just right — in those liminal spaces, it almost felt the same. 

But it wasn’t.

I pushed my way into the bar and made my way straight over to Uran who was gesturing me into the room in the back. It was still light out so the place was nearly deserted. Rare was the occasion that she let anyone in so I tried to school my expression into something sufficiently appreciative.

The room was really a glorified curio cabinet. Disassembled watches, jewelry with the settings torn, and busts of exotic animals were piled here and there. I could see that there was a method though, everything rigorously organised to some rules I didn’t understand.

Uran unlocked a cabinet and pulled out the bracelet. It was chunkier than I’d been expecting, not Seivarden’s style at all. I didn’t move to grab it, instead I thunked the satchel I’d been carrying down on the table. Uran pulled it towards her, face impassive like she’d never doubted my solvency. She cast her eye over it quickly then pushed the bracelet at me.

I picked it up to examine it. Held it up to the light, flipped it over. Ah. I saw what I was looking for. “Hey Uran, can I borrow that jeweler’s lens?” She handed it to me and I fixed it to my eye. It was a subtle engraving, but I knew what it meant. I checked my watch. Just enough time if I left now. I nodded to Uran and made to leave but she put out a hand on my arm. I stiffened, surprised. Uran wasn’t a toucher.

“You know, my sister and I—and Sphene—we are here to help you.”

“Pretty sure you’re here to make it, like the rest of us.” You come out west to chase something. Her eyebrows knit together for a second.

“Maybe we came here for that. But we are here because you helped us and we stay here because you made this city safe for us. No one else would have kept pursuing that woman for years.” She meant Raughd, she never said her name, barely even alluded to her.

“You’re forgetting Celar paid me.”

“You were looking for someone to pay you. I,” she looked down, “I couldn’t talk about it but I kept track. You kept trying until someone would hire you. So. We are also here to help you.”

“You’ve been keeping me in information. We’re even.” Now she really did look frustrated, for a second I thought she was going to hit something, possibly me, before she placed her hand, very carefully, flat on the table.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she accused and I tipped my head in acknowledgement. I’d just been through this with Ettan and I wasn’t going to go through this again. Which.

“Ettan called you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, though I told her I wouldn’t be able to talk you out of anything.”

“Just—” I felt my own body tense up. “Trust me. You know me; you think I haven’t thought of other options? That if I thought it would make a lick of difference, I wouldn’t get you to help out? I’m just making it easier on you.”

“I think you wouldn’t ask for help if it would only help you and not help your mission. I think you wouldn’t ask for help if it just meant a higher chance of you coming home.”

Uran folded in on herself a little and it was like a time machine. All of her poise and control gone and I was faced with the young girl I’d first met, brave but battered and needing me. But that was an illusion as well; even then Uran would have made it whether or not I’d bothered to show up.

She glared at me.

“You’re a fool if you think that this will ever be easy. Just go.” I thought of some things I could say, but none of them would make a difference, so I went.

Sphene’s voice called out to me from across the empty bar.

“The quality of gangsters is going down.” I hadn’t been expecting Sphene to come down but this was just another roadblock to overcome before I could get out of here.

“What makes you say that?” Sphene made a snorting noise.

“I clocked the bottom feeder lurking around the bar before you even walked in. You’d have washed the kid out first week, back when you had a say.”

“You overstate my fearsomeness.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Sphene pretending to a familiarity with me made me uncomfortable. She didn’t know me. She didn’t know what I’d done. Sphene had been sidelined by Anaander way before she’d really begun to consolidate her power. Nowadays every crime family in this country reported up to her, a fear of organisation that the elected leaders of this country couldn’t manage and I’d been with her the whole way. Sphene had no idea what that meant, not really.

Behind Sphene, I saw Uran leave her room. Before Sphene could look back and figure out that something was up, I slipped out of the bar, nodding to Tisarwat who just stared back at me, a little wide-eyed.

\---

It was closer to 7 by the time I made it back to my room, toting some nice take-out. I got everything laid out, lit the candle I kept for blackouts and had the wine breathed by the time Seivarden came in. It was no Waldorf, but if you squinted, the ambiance was all right.

“What’s all this?” I gestured to the seat across from me. I’d thought the second chair was an unbearable luxury but look at all the use I was getting out of it.

“Take a seat.” We ate, chatted of some inconsequential things. I could tell Seivarden was burningly curious but too well-bred to bring up tense topics during a meal. I took pity on her after the last bite and went into my satchel to grab the brown wrapped package. For a mad second I thought about presenting it to her like a knight with a token for my lady, ta-dah! But grand gestures had never sat well on me and this age was too cynical to let you get away with that stuff without a wink or nudge to the imagined audience.

I passed it into her hands. They were shaking as she pulled the bow loose. The bracelet had barely been revealed before she threw her arms around my neck, kissing me passionately. Now, it had always been good with Seivarden, she was experienced and responsive, but this was something else. Maybe I was more woken up to it, but every kiss, every caress, had an intensity that caused me to shiver. I felt acutely aware of where my hands were, of the texture of her hair, the salt of her skin. I let myself lose myself in it for the first time. For once, I wasn’t thinking about her angle, or mine.

Spent, I crashed out next to her and she pulled me in.

I awoke, middle of the night, to the small sounds of items shifting around me. Opening my eyes, I saw Seivarden trying to gather herself quietly.

“Come say goodbye.” My voice was gravelly with interrupted sleep.

She tried to laugh it off, swanning her way over. After she kissed me I said, “you should know, I cleaned out the account.” She blinked at me. I knew the moment when she got it because her face went furious and she tried to struggle free.

That was the real Seivarden. She’d been playing happy families with me but the act was over now.

“Calm down. You can have the money. I just need you to do me a little favour. You can think of it as me adding onto your bill.” Her face took on a wounded cast, bow lips downturned at the corners, but stilled. “Oh don’t dramatise. You were the one sneaking out of my bed in the middle of the night. And after I’d got you such a nice dinner.”

She pulled herself up tall. “What do you want?”

“I know you’re going to meet with Anaander Mianaai. I want you to take me with you.” She looked confused, but I wasn’t in an explaining mood. I needed coffee. So I got up, pulled on my robe, and walked over to the sink. Starting the routine calmed me down, made it easier to begin. “By the way, it’s a stupid plan. She all but killed your family and you’re lining up to walk inside her mouth with a sackful of cash as an aperitif.”

She was still just staring at me, blinking, so I gestured her into the chair at the table, still messy from before. She sat.

“Why do you want to see her?”

“Let’s just say I need something from her.” Seivarden nodded, satisfied. Too easily accepting of a motivation that matched hers.

“How did you figure it out?”

I didn’t allow myself the luxury of a sigh. “At what point do you stop assuming that I’m stupid? Don’t answer that. I knew you were up to something from the beginning. Seducing me was a nice touch, good try at distracting me, but it was a dead giveaway. No one hears this voice and is overcome by passion.” She opened her mouth, possibly to object. I waited. But she just closed it with a click. She couldn’t really argue with that. “And then there was your obsession with Justice of Toren. There’s only one way of getting back there and that’s with Anaander’s Mianaai’s permission. You must have some access to Anaander or you wouldn’t have wanted to move on the bracelet.

What I don’t get, is why?”

“You don’t know what it’s like. This exile. Being so alone. I just wanted to go home.” I suppressed my first reaction to that comment. And then my next few reactions. “And I didn’t just want to distract you—” I waved her away.

“You also wanted my protection. And were willing to take steps to secure it. You need to realise that no one can protect you from Anaander Mianaai.” I knew that better than anyone. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I knew from the beginning.” She had the decency to look a little ashamed. I couldn’t help myself from adding, “You’ve never been true to anyone in your life, I didn’t expect you to start now.”

“You don’t need to be cruel.” 

The moment sat.

“So walk me through the plan. What is it?” Seivarden swallowed and composed herself while I busied myself with the stove. Untwist, rinse, repack grinds, twist, light burner. There was a ritual familiarity there.

“After—my family. She made it clear that things would be fine as long as I stayed away. I thought maybe I could buy my way back. I think she knew that we’d never done anything against her and the money would give her an excuse to change her mind.” 

“If Anaander told you to stay away she meant it. Why would a few bucks change her mind?” I knew exactly how much money Seivarden was bargaining with. It would turn any one person’s head but Anaander worked on a scale that was bigger than anyone else’s.

“My family never did anything to hurt her—“

“And even if she let you back, she’d never trust you.”

“It was a mistake! It was her mistake, trusting Geir. If I could  _ explain  _ it to her she’d let me back. She was never unreasonable.” That took me aback. Never unreasonable? Maybe Anaander had been cooperative, because the Vendaais were in real estate and that’s the mob’s wheelhouse, but reasonable?

“Seivarden, Anaander is a bunch of a feral rats tied together by their tails. You don’t get to be a crime boss by being a reasonable person. She kills whole families at weddings, and then justifies it because they didn’t respect her honour code. What part of that is reasonable?”

“Well, maybe some of the lesser minds need to have a show of force to get the message but in her dealings with my mother she’d always been perfectly polite—” I slammed my fist on the table and Seivarden flinched. I turned back to the coffee; I just had to get the cups ready. One sugar for Seivarden, some milk for me. I wondered if Seivarden had ever had to make her own coffee before. I wondered if she’d ever had to do it since. 

How could I explain it to her? How every minute Anaander got more powerful she got more paranoid? That she saw threads in every shadow—giving out contradictory orders and then punishing the people who carried them out, depending on her whim. I remembered her, sitting in her den she’d turned into a fortress, fearing anyone with any skill or independent thinking, but then bemoaning that no one would help her, that she was surrounded by lackeys.

“Your family wasn’t her only ‘mistake,’” I said quietly, mindful of Seivarden’s fear. “She’s been making them for a while, too caught up in short term gains. If she’s agreed to meet with you now, it’s only because she thinks you’re conspiring with the Triads to get a foothold in Mercy of Kalr.” She went pale, which was a good sign that maybe she wasn’t too far gone.

“Your outings with your foreign friend have been noticed. Why do you think someone was trying to grab you?”

“I thought—Geir.”

“You haven’t kept up with the times, Geir’s still kicking, barely, but none of the prominent families want to work with them after what they did to your family. They forgot that you need to put a veneer of civility on your violence. But we can blame that slipping of standards on too much association with the mob, the rest of society did and snipped them out of public life.” Seivarden was looking at me like she’d never seen me before. And maybe she hadn’t. She’d pegged me as a patsy, a useful distraction, and maybe even a shield against the edges of the world, some sort of a soft place to fall. But I’d never been soft.

I’m a hammer, and anyone who picked me up better be willing to bring it down. Now was the time to see if Seivarden had it in her.

The light of curiosity went on in Seivarden’s eyes. “Ying, she’s Triad?”

“No.” That was, of course, a simplification. But her family was old enough that their torrid past was more of a fun peccadillo, something you could wheel out over brandy to impress the guests, like Seivarden’s bracelet. Maybe if they had to expand a business, or fell into some hard times they’d need to call up those connections, but for now it all lay dormant. The weak tea of organised crime, as Sphene would say.

“Then why—”

“You believed it, and you know her. What would Anaander think, who assumes the worst and has every reason to believe you wish her ill?” Seivarden slumped and I knew I had her. The coffee was ready, so I portioned it, slid one over. She clutched it in her hands like an anchor. “You go in there alone, you’ll get nothing. You need me. I can make sure you get out alive.”

“And once I get you there?”

“What you say to Anaander is your business, I won't stop you. We go in, you speak your piece, I get you out.” Technically not a lie, and I think I’d sufficiently terrified Seivarden. She was looking for a reason to accept my involvement in her plan.

“What do you want from me?”

“Just what I said.” I blew across the top of my coffee. “Call your contact, say you want to meet. Get me in the room and you’re free to go. With your money.”

“How do you know this will work?” The honest answer was: I didn’t.

“I wasn’t always a fleabag detective.”

\---

I’d bundled Seivarden down to the phone immediately under the reasoning that crime never sleeps. She’d conveyed her request, sticking pretty close to the script I’d set so now there was nothing left to do but wait. When it was time, we’d know.

It took her a while to get back to sleep after all that, and she might as well be rested, so I let her sleep in.

For my part, I had one more errand to run.

I hadn’t been sure I would do this, but my run-ins with Ettan and Uran had made it pretty clear I was deluding myself if I thought talking to Basnaaid was avoidable.

I stepped out of the building and walked over to the bus stop bench outside my building. It took me a few pokes, but I got Tisarwat awake. Took her a moment, but once she realised it was me, she leapt up, horrified and apologising. I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

“Come take a walk with me.” We grabbed some coffee and danishes. Poor kid inhaled them, I didn’t know what she was being paid but it wasn’t enough for a still growing kid like her.

“I’m going to go talk with Basnaaid today.” Tisarwat brightened up, crumbs flying off her face, but reassured me quickly,

“I’ve stayed away just like you said.”

“Kid, I know. You’ve been stuck to me like a mosquito in a tent. So just let me finish, willya.” I wait a second, and Tisarwat inflated a couple of times like she was going to start talking, but kept mum.

“I’m going to talk to Basnaaid today. You can stay back while I do that.” She looked a little dejected but nodded. “But after that, I’m going to be having a meeting with your boss.” And here she looked panicked. It was like having a little coin operated expression machine. How many could I make her do in a row? “That means, Basnaaid’s going to need someone to look out for her for a while. Can that person be you?” Confusion, excitement, fear, and finally determination. It really was a modern marvel, like a plasticine face.

“You can count on me! Sir.” Sir, now was it.

“I hope so, cause you know The Family has only ever caused the Elmings grief.” I meant it as a warning, a sign to stay back, but young Tisarwat seemed to take it more like prompt. Her eyes were shining and she breathed visibly hard as she looked up at me.

“I won’t! I’ll...I’ll leave the Family.”

“Oh, for the love of—“ You can’t leave the Mob, that’s the whole  _ point  _ of all those stupid oaths. And I wasn’t I a living example of that? Just when you think you’re out they find a way to pull you back in. “Fine. I’m watching you though.“ And so help me, Tisarwat seemed to like that even more. “Whatever happens, keep her out of it. Do what you have to.” 

I’m pretty sure I was never so young and I ignored any part of my mind that told me I was probably more pathetic over Awn.

\---

I had a stop to make first. I waited for the final stragglers to ask her their questions about leaves or buds or what have you, and then I made my approach. Tisarwat was lurking nearby, out of ear range, but I’d just have to trust she’d make a fuss if anyone came to interrupt us.

“Hello, Miss Elming,” I said. “You don’t know me but—“

She cut me off. “Of course I know you, Breq. Would you like to sit down?” She pointed towards a bench. That wasthe second time in two weeks I’d been caught flat-footed. It was becoming a habit.

I sat heavily. “How—“

She shrugged delicately, “My sister, she wrote about you a lot. She sent me some pictures. And then you started stalking Tree Time so it wasn’t too hard to put together.” I must have looked surprised because she said, “Awn didn’t leave me totally defenseless, she taught me how to spot a tail.” Hearing her name out loud spoken with such fondness still knocked me back. Something must have shown on my face because Basnaaid’s eyes softened.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

She looked thoughtful. “Well, at first I was so angry,” I found myself nodding, “Angry at you, angry at myself, angry at her.” I must have looked confused enough because she continued, “Of course I was angry at her; she left me. And how could I not be angry at myself? She did it for me. I took the money she gave me for classes and I knew where it came from, no matter what she said. I wanted to blame you for getting her into it but she was so stubborn! I know she would have found a way, maybe it would have been better, maybe it would have been less safe, we’ll never know. I mean, you knew her, do you think she would have let me inherit the shop?”

“No,” I said and my voice was a rasp. I’d been carrying Awn on my own for so long, talking about her felt like pulling on a knife that was buried in my chest. It hurt all the time, but it was taking it out that might kill me. “I don’t think she would have.” She nodded, satisfied.

“But I think to answer what you’re really asking is: I’m not mad at you. Being mad at you was easy, a cop out. Once I figured that out, I couldn’t lie to myself any more.” She was blinking back tears so I gave her a second, let my gaze wander off to follow a squirrel dashing from trunk to trunk.  _ Run, little squirrel. Don’t let the winter catch you out. _ Basnaaid continued, “By then we’d already settled into our pattern and I talked myself out of saying anything.” She looked a little fearful all of a sudden.

“Why  _ are  _ you talking to me?” Right, I had a reason for this aside from getting my heart julienned.

“There’s something I have to do and I might not be back,” I meant to stop there but I found myself finishing, “for a while. So. If that’s the case, I have some stuff I want you to have.” I slid over the enveloped with the letter I’d prepared. “All the instructions are there, it’s all in a safe deposit box, key’s in the envelope.”

She looked at me shrewdly and didn’t pick the envelope up. “This thing you have to do, is this something Awn would approve of?”

“Well, Basnaaid, she doesn’t really get a say on account of her being dead and all.” Basnaaid drew in a breath and I was immediately remorseful. “This is my chance,” I said quietly, “my only chance to strike back at the person who killed her. I have to take it; I have to.” I let that sink in.

“Can you tell me how she died? And before you say anything, yes, I really want to know.”

I could see that she did. And what the hell, right? “Anaander Mianaai,” I said, my voice dripping with maximum disdain, “didn’t really believe that Awn was loyal. She thought she was too squeamish, couldn’t get it done. So she set up a test for her. There was a family, new to the country, in debt to the mob up to their eyeballs to pay for all of the fees to get over here and get set up. So they took some unsanctioned work. Anaander sent your sister to get them to stop.” I still couldn’t bring myself to put Awn’s and Anaander’s name together in the same sentence, the sacred touching the profane. “You have to understand, that’s not what Awn did, there’s knucklebreakers for that. Okay? Your sister was good.” I recognised the hypocrisy of what I was saying, but I knew my standards had been broken all my life. 

For me a thief and a brawler were understandable, they were just trying to get by. What were they in comparison to the fat cats who could watch a whole city turn to dust on the dole? Violence is relative. At least my type of violence you saw close up, instead of hitting you like a bolt from the sky. “Awn used her connections to help people.” Maybe a family restaurant couldn’t get tomatoes that didn’t have a huge import markup on them so she’d liberate some for cheap. Or if a sleazebag was hassling girls in one of her neighbourhoods and she’d make sure it never happened again.  

But all of that’s just the bullshit we say to justify it to ourselves. 

At least Uran and her friends were true believers. Revolution and real Anarchy. I’d just wanted to get by and I hadn’t even managed that.

“Anaander thought Awn was insufficiently persuasive.” There was no comprehension on Basnaaid’s face so I explained, “Awn wouldn’t hurt them.” I still remembered the smell of their apartment, the overpowering smell of cabbage and bleach from the laundry soaking in the small room. The mother’s eyes, so humiliated as she pleaded for her children’s life. Awn’s hands had been shaking on the gun and I’d been so frozen, knowing she was dead if she didn’t and that she couldn’t live with herself if she did. I could still taste the acrid burn of adrenaline in my mouth when I realised she couldn’t do it.

I finished it. “So Anaander killed her. And I just stood there and watched.” A pause. “Most days I wish I’d died in her place.”

“And the rest of the days?”

“I wish I’d died too.”

Basnaaid took that in for a second but she didn’t seem surprised. “And what happened to that family?”

“I smuggled them out.” Anaander sent me back in to finish them off. Instead I told them to be quiet and we ran and I never stopped running. Skaaiat basically adopted one, this marking the only time Skaaiat and I had ever worked together. “I figured maybe Anaander wouldn’t be paying too much attention.” 

“Then no, I don’t think Awn would have preferred if you died too.” I hung my head. Maybe even a year ago I couldn’t have heard that but right now I could maybe let myself believe it. Just for a day or two, just until it was all over. Then, miracle of miracles, she put her hand on top of mine. We sat there for a long moment. I’m not sure I could have brought myself to move except Tisarwat stuck her head in.

“Um, boss, sir.” I looked over. There were some real goons lurking by the fences. I think I recognised one from the failed smash and grab on Seirvarden. Even from this distance, Tisarwat was dwarfed in comparison. I had the feeling this time they’d be a little less easy to dissuade.

“Right,” I said, and levered myself up. “Time to go,” I paused. What the hell. “This is an associate of mine, Tisarwat.”

“Oh! I remember you, you were the young lady with the questions about rhododendrons.” Tisarwat was blushing, a full tomato that had worked its way all the way up to her hairline. Saints preserve us from teenagers. 

I turned to go.

Basnaaid gripped my hand and I looked back at her.

“The pictures. I still have them. You should come by and see them, after.” She looked sad. “You look really happy in them.”

“After,” I agreed and walked out. Tisarwat gave Basnaaid an awkward half-wave and smile. Someone save me.

As soon as I got in distance of the goons, one moved to flank me. Tisarwat darted forth but I waved her back with a meaningful look towards Basnaaid. She squared her jaw: message received. I wasn’t her concern anymore.

One of them went to grab me but I put my hands up. Unarmed. “Pretty sure your instructions were alive and unharmed. Just point me and I’ll walk.” They glowered but I just gave them my most withering look back.

\---

Sitting in the back of the dark Ford sedan next to Seivarden, I tried to lighten the mood.

“So how long have you been in Mercy of Kalr?” No response. “You getting a chance to enjoy and of the sights?” Tough crowd.

Seivarden was just staring at me worriedly. Quietly, I asked, “Did they hurt you?” I didn’t see any bruises, but you never know.

“No, I’m fine.” She tried to smile but it was a weak effort. I chuffed her gently under the chin.

Seivarden had her hand pressed down on the seat between us. I stared at it. Then I put mind down next to hers, flat. She curled her pinky against mine, an anchor tying me to this moment, to this body. I felt like if I’d tried this with anyone else, our fingers would have slid right through each other. I shouldn’t have been surprised; Seivarden was just as spectral as me. But when she reached out, it pulled me through the world, a curious and almost unpleasant sensation. This was real.

I let myself think about the twists and turns of life that had brought us both to this moment. If those thugs hadn’t tried to grab her, if I hadn’t been watching, if she hadn’t blabbed to Skaaiat, if, if. And the darker side: if her family weren't dead, if I hadn’t lost what I cared about most, we’d never have looked at each other twice. It was a fragile a temporary moment, like my whole life had been since I watched Awn die.

I felt almost sorry that she’d gotten herself dragged into this.

“It’ll be alright. Trust me.”

And just like that, we were there. 

\---

Of course it was a hotel. If the mob was going to have a base anywhere, it would be in overpriced real estate. The suite itself was well-appointed and Anaander Mianaai looked at home on the couch in the middle of the room, flanked by one of her trusted lieutenants, Hetnys from Sword of Atagaris. I’d never liked her, too full of her own pride and with a taste for violence that explained the forcefulness of the goons we’d been dealing with. The goon behind us pulled out her gun. Way too close to us, really, but I wasn’t here to improve her technique.

But from the moment I walked in, my eyes were only on Anaander Mianaai. Everything else faded away and I felt the blood rush in my ears. It was like no time had passed.

I saw her recognise me. Momentary shock fading into satisfaction. Here I was, all of her suspicions proved right. 

Seivarden took in a breath, to explain, make her pitch and get welcomed back into the warm bosom of the crime syndicate, but Anaander didn’t let her get a word at.

“Seivarden Vendaai, what do you think you’re playing at?” I felt Seivarden twitch, next to me. I brushed the back of my hand against hers.  _ Stay calm.  _ “Coming here like this with my wayward cousin.”

“Wh—I don’t?”

“She doesn’t know who I am.” All cards on the table.

“Really? Well, blindness was always a Vendaai weakness.” She turned her head to address Seivarden but her eyes never left mine. And I didn’t blink. “You should be aware that you’ve been consorting with a very dangerous woman. Breq Mianaai was my deadliest enforcer.” Her head swung back to me, snakelike, steady and cold. “You’ve killed how many?”

I smiled, a grim press of lips together. I wasn’t going to play that game.

“I’m not Breq Mianaai anymore. I used Seivarden to get to you, but I’m here now.” I kept the momentum, pulled Anaander’s attention back to me and absolved Seivarden in one breath. “And I can get you what you want.”

“And what do I want?”

“Control. Unity. To keep the Triads out of your cities.” Her eyes flashed and I knew I had her.

“You couldn’t have just called me up?”

“I had to get your attention.”

“You have it. Seivarden, you can go. Let the adults talk.”

“No?” Seivarden said, uncertainly, more like she was asking a question. “No. I'm not going.” This wasn’t the plan. I had counted on Seivarden’s pattern of self-interest to get her out safely. The Seivarden I knew would have fled the moment she saw that the situation was turning against her. I couldn’t understand why she was staying now. It couldn’t be for me. Risking it, I turned to Seivarden.

“I had no intention of helping you.” Seivarden didn’t leave. “You heard the part where I’m a Mianaai, right?” She just raised her chin, defiant. I hated to break a promise, and I didn't have another plan for ensuring her safety but I didn’t have time to wonder about this anymore. “Fine.”

This was the risky moment, Anaander could just order me killed but I was banking on her curiosity making her need to hear me out.

“Why should I believe you?”

I stepped forward. “You have all the evidence you’re looking for. And I know you need me.” I waved a little, unconcerned. “I know you thought you didn’t, that I’d outlived my usefulness, but look at what’s happened: you invested in Geir and there was no return, cities are pushing for autonomy, and right here there are foreigners edging into your territory. Tsk, tsk.”

“I will admit, you were a valuable asset. But hardly irreplaceable,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward where Hetnys was staring, impassive. Honestly, that made my case better than any argument I could have made but it didn’t seem politic to comment on it. “I thought you were still upset about your pet, what’s her name.” I knew she remembered Awn's name. Mianaais never forget. We’re like elephants or insurance companies that way.

I said nothing. Anaander sighed, disappointed. “So, you clear out the rabble for me. What do you get out of it?”

“I want to come home.” Not a real answer, but I felt Seivarden shift beside me. If Seivarden believed what I was saying, that helped my case.

“Fair enough.” She waved me into the padded chair across from her, crucially, where the goon behind Seivarden couldn’t see my hands. I walked over and sat down, utterly calm. This is what I’d been waiting for.

Strange, I thought I’d feel more. I’d been waiting for this moment for so long, played it over in mind, what I would say, how she would react. But looking at her, she was unchanged, just the same Anaander I’d always known. Even if I could find the words to explain she wouldn’t get it. It was disappointing, really.

“You know, Awn and I, we were never going to challenge you. We were just—” I choked out the word, “—happy. We were completely loyal and all the threats were in your mind. It’s always in your mind; there is no Triad here.” Anaander’s face was shocked, disbelieving, this wasn’t what she expected. But before she could say anything I drew my gun and shot her point blank, just like she did Awn. 

I waited for my own bullet.

Instead, in the background I heard Seivarden tackle the armed goon to the floor. I wish I could have seen it, but I could imagine. Her shoulders were really built for the bullrush. I didn’t even hear a shot go off. 

I turned my gun quickly on Hetnys. The barrel was still smoking.

“Now the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can die, right here, like a dog, or you can walk away. Run your little city, maybe even grab some more power while they pick a new Don. I don’t give a damn. And if I ever see any of you in Mercy of Kalr—and I will know if you’re here—I will come for you.” I indicated the corpse of Anaander Mianaai. “And you’ve seen how that turns out.”

Her eyes burned with hatred but I knew she’d do it. She loved Sword of Atagaris and her dominion there. Maybe not as much as I’d loved Awn, but I recognised that fire in Hetnys. It would be enough. She gave me a jerky nod and signalled to her goons who silently stepped back. Only when they had fully left the room did I turn my attention to Seivarden who had been growing more and more distressed during the proceedings.

“You were supposed to go.” 

“You said you’d get me out.” That was my cue.

We stepped outside, leaving Hetnys and her cronies.

I looked over at Seivarden curiously, she was distant, and pale. I was the opposite. I had imagined that moment so many times, standing over Anaander, knowing I’d freed the world of her. The reality was more than I had imagined. But Seivarden’s face reminded me of the reality.

“Why did you stay?” Her eyes were troubled.

“You don’t know?” I let my silence speak for me. She looked down and away and I guess I did know, however strange it seemed. I wondered when she'd known. Was it back in the hotel room? Before? I tucked my thumb against her chin, lifted her face up.

“But why?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I could care for you?” Yesterday I might have said yes, but that was before I'd talked to Ettan, Uran, and even Basnaaid. I could believe they all wanted to avoid pointless loss of life.

“I blackmailed you.”

“But you never liked to me. You didn't want me to die. And you cared about helping.” She seemed uncomfortable and I decided to stop pushing. Maybe this was enough.

“Hey doll, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Her lips thinned in the worst approximation of a smile I’d ever seen. “Come on, this is where you’re supposed to say something witty like, ‘I think I have’ or similar.” She appeared to be resisting rolling her eyes. A distinct improvement, I'd count it as a partial success.

We continued our way out of the building, where Detective Lusulun was just folding up her newspaper.

“So,” I said.

“So,” she said. “We got some reports of a suicide at this address. Seems like an open and shut case. Oh and this is for you.” She passed an envelope to Seivarden.

For the first time in years, I felt a real smile break out onto my face, possibly my first one since I left Justice of Toren.

\---

Seivarden broke the moment. “I need a drink.” 

Lusulun tipped her hat. “You should head out anyway, best not to be around.”

In retrospect, I don’t know why I thought walking into the Gem would be a good idea. I didn’t get out a word before Queter smacked me resoundingly across the face.

“Don’t you  _ ever  _ do that again.” She glared, “You could have died.” 

My brain said,  _ that was the point,  _ but instead I managed to redirect myself into a “Nah.” Queter’s glare intensified. “Hey, I was perfectly careful,” and then I cheerfully threw Seivarden under the bus. “Seivarden jumped in front of a gun, you know. Now that was reckless.” Queter just reached out and pulled Seivarden into a hug. And squeezed. Double standard if I ever saw one.

“Uran!” Queter yelled, deafeningly loud without releasing Seivarden. Uran rushed out with Ettan behind her.

I braced myself but Ettan just stared at me for a second before bursting into tears.

“Seivarden saved Breq’s life.” Uran shook Seivarden’s hand enthusiastically. Seivarden bore the attention well.

Ettan’s hysterics were mercifully brief, before my eyes she visibly pulled herself together, just brushing her hand once down her skirt. You’d never have believed she was upset at all if her eyes weren’t red. 

“I couldn’t let her die,” Seivarden said, and Ettan, Queter, and Uran all nodded back in the exact same solemn show of agreement. I didn’t get it but maybe I was starting to.

I contemplated running back out the door, but I’d barely completed a half turn when the door swung open and Sphene came in with Tisarwat and Basnaaid. I glared at Tisarwat who paled but stared back at me defiantly. So there was some spine there. Good.

Tisarwat was hovering behind Basnaaid, but in a sort of determined way that said she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Look who’s not dead!” Sphene said brightly. You could always trust Sphene. Sphene barged past everyone and up the stairs. Queter nudged everyone into seats and had just cracked open a fresh crate of bar peanuts when Sphene came back down with a bottle with actual dust on it.

The brandy smelled like apples and went down like butter. Even Seivarden was impressed, and I’d seen her family’s decanter collection. Ettan and Queter’s reactions I could explain as them being people who cared about humanity, but for Sphene to bring out the good liquor? It was too hard to comprehend, so I took another sip. Like liquid springtime.

Two rounds of that and Tisarwat had unwound enough to speak. “What are we going to do about the mob?”  _ Oh so it’s a ‘ _ we’  _ is it? _

The atmosphere went tense immediately. Tisarwat stiffened. “I might not be very good at tailing someone, but I’m not an idiot.” Sphene twitched like she wanted to argue, but I held up a hand. Tisarwat continued, “The Family isn’t going to be headless for long and then—”

“They’ll come for me.”

“You’re not going to go, are you?” Basnaaid said. Despite what she’d said earlier, I hadn’t really believed that she’d have any sort of opinion on what happened to me once I hadn't died.

“I thought about it.” I shook my head. “But they’ll come no matter what.”

“And then?” Ettan had steel in her gaze.

“What makes you think I’ve got a plan?” Ettan just gave me a look. Where was my respect? “Well,” I leaned back, “it’s always been unprofitable to operate in Mercy of Kalr. We just need to keep it that way.”

“And I suppose you have some ideas for that?” Sphene asked, wry. I looked around the room, thought about Ettan’s cool competence, Tisarwat’s earnestness, Uran’s determination.

“I might do.”

We ended up drinking into the early hours. I knew we were in trouble when Queter started the toasts and pulled out the real homemade vodka. One could not leave while the toasts were ongoing, or some great-aunt would roll in her grave so hard that no future generation could ever find peace. I girded myself and hoped that I could lay in some street cart hot dogs later to prevent the rotgut from burning a hole in my stomach. 

When we finally stumbled out, I knew we weren’t going to make it home. Instead I grabbed her hand and led her back to my office. I forgot I’d trashed the place, but I knew the exact record I wanted.

I struggled a little with the needle but then I had it on and I pulled Seivarden in. To be fair, it was more of a sway—or maybe that was the room. But the intent was there. And maybe that was enough. Maybe it was the drink talking, but the light from the moon’s was shining on her hair in a particularly enchanting way. I leaned in and inhaled, just taking the moment. She smelled of roses from some undoubtedly fancy water and it struck me that I’d probably get to go on smelling that, might even find it commonplace at some point. We’d earned the possibility of a future, together, that rare and wondrous thing.

I spun her out and Seivarden giggled. 

“I thought you didn’t dance?” She asked, still giggling a little. 

“Well,” I said, “it is Thursday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are loved.
> 
> When I wrote this I was pretty sure that absolutely no one would read it. What are the odds someone would both really like noir and ancillary justice? But it had to be written. Idk the mind is a funny thing.


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